death doesn’t play fair and it’s sister, grief, is treacherous as well. they can arrive on the most ordinary day and twist your world in very unordinary ways. my father use to tell me that death is nothing but a circle. and if i were to looked at it i would see it as a continuation not an end. my father was also a poet. he didn’t have any words for grief other than to say, ‘it’s a mutha phucka.’ which is the greatest truth he ever imparted.
what would i do without these shadows to guide me, walk with me, talk with me, hold me in place? i have no idea but imagine it would be a space without grace.
he never wanted to be
a hero. he told me i’m
more luke cage than you know
unbreakable but broken
all the same.
the fourth of july weekend of 2016 sent me through a soul searching roller coaster ride. i was more 700 miles from my home, driving with my parents and young son after having spent a weekend with my aunts and cousins in hot springs, arkansas, when i learned that 2 men more than 1,000 miles…